Early bird
by SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: Jazz and Prowl discover the joys of having a roommate. Human AU.
1. Chapter 1

**I got a request from Koryandrs and I've wanted to do this for a while now (I say that a lot, don't I?), so here ya go. New things to enjoy.**

**Sorry I haven't updated anything, it was christmas, my birthday and I got dragged to London for a day to the shard. I got a starbucks out of it. Mmm mm, Peppermint hot chocolate.**

**Human AU~**

* * *

_Early bird_

It was the best bagel in the pack.

Perfectly round, smooth, with a clean cut right through the middle. No random chunks were missing, and the colour was simply _divine_.

And Prowl had his eye on it. Every morning he would wake up, take a bagel out of the packet and toast it before slathering cream cheese on the top of each half and enjoying it while Jazz was still struggling to keep his eyes open for five seconds. He was getting closer and closer to that perfect bagel that sat right at the bottom.

But today was different. He woke up just like usual – at half five due to his alarm – and quickly pulled on a t-shirt to stay appropriate before walking into the kitchen, taking care to not slide on the wooden floor with his socks.

Only to find, much to his horror, that the last bagel in the packet wasn't there. He found the plastic packaging in the bin, and an unopened packet in the bread bin. The first did look good but it just _wasn't the same_. Where was his bagel?!

He heard a loud crunch behind him, and turned around to see a very smug looking Jazz sitting perched up on the side with a plate of toasted bagel.

His.

Bagel.

Jazz was eating. _His. Bagel_.

At Prowls shocked and betrayed expression, Jazz grinned and smacked his lips, making a big show of eating the perfect bagel. "Mmmm mm, Prowler. Can see why ya were savin' this one!"

"That's my bag- I – why are you even up this early?" Prowl stuttered, not quite sure what he wanted to say. Indignation at something he'd staked claim on being eaten by the fiend on the counter was quickly forgotten when Prowl realized that Jazz was awake and, god forbid, _dressed_.

"Just got back in." He replied, popping the last piece into his mouth. "Recovery team took its sweet time. Was sittin' in a dusty vent fer longer than Ah care ta remember."

"I'll look into that." Prowl replied, forlornly opening up the other packet and removing the first bagel, splitting it into its two halves and putting them into the toaster. Jazz nodded as he dumped his plate down on the side, stretching and yawning loudly. He blearily rubbed at his eyes, hopping down from the side.

"Ah'm goin' ta bed. Call meh if ya need meh."

"As if you'd answer."

Jazz simply chuckled from the hallway, too tired for a retort, as he opened up the door to his room.

Exactly two minutes later, Prowl could hear him snoring. Yup. Wouldn't answer his phone.

* * *

When Jazz woke up again, it was late afternoon and the apartment was empty. He didn't have another shift for two days, so he sighed and fell back down onto his bed, reluctant to leave it. His stomach grumbling again forced him up and out into the kitchen in a search of something to graze on.

He'd go straight back to bed after, he'd decided. His legs still felt like lead, and his head still pounded. He was pretty sure that he had a cracked rib, but he really couldn't be bothered to drive the whole way to the base.

Nope. He'd wait until later. Or he could call Ratchet out her- no. Noooooo no no. Ratchet would _murder_ him first for bypassing the base and going straight home, and he quite enjoyed being alive thank you very much.

There was nothing out on the side nor the table for him to munch on, so he checked the fridge to find that Prowl had made him a small fruit salad just incase he woke up before he got back. It was predominantly apples as Prowls mother insisted on giving them almost a crate full every time she visited during the harvest, and they were struggling to find out what to do with all of them, and a few slices of banana thrown in for good measure. When Jazz shook it a little, some grapes came into view.

Grabbing a fork from the drawer, he sat at the table and started munching away on the fruit, thinking over the mission he had just been on. Falling asleep was dead easy knowing that Prowl was in the apartment, but now that he was well and truly alone he knew that he wouldn't be getting a single wink. Oh the joys of Special Ops.

Clumsily biting down on a grape, the force of it slipping on his teeth made it shoot out of his mouth like a bullet to splat onto the wall. He grumbled and continued eating the rest of his fruit salad, taking care to not make the same mistake again. He'd have to clean it up when he'd finished. It wasn't as if he'd be sleeping again any time soon anyway.

He left his fork and the tub on the table, deciding that he was far too tired to make the few steps to the dishwasher and yank it open, and swiped the cloth from the sink so he could wipe the grape off the wall. By now it had started to slide down and there was a long, sticky trail running down.

Grreeeaaaat.

He was slightly tempted to just lick it off, but common sense told him otherwise and he started the laborious task of wiping down the wall so that Prowl wouldn't even know it had happened. He was _very_ good at finding mysterious stains and patches, and most of the time it was Jazz's fault they got there. So, he always got the blame.

Prowl was already going to be in a bad mood with him for eating his bagel (although it was _very_ delicious and he wouldn't hesitate to do it again), and a sticky trail on the wall wasn't something you'd want to come home to. So, scrubbing away at the wall it was.

He dumped the evidence in the bin and washed off the cloth he used before slinking back to his room and flopping down into his bed, sighing into the fabric of his pillow.

* * *

When Prowl returned, he found Jazz curled up on the sofa, all wrapped up in his bed sheets and the spotted blanket they kept behind the sofa for when it got cold. He wasn't asleep, however he looked exhausted and he would be for the next few days. Jazz gave Prowl a sleepy smile when he saw him, moving to sit up but suddenly hissing as he agitated something.

And Prowl heard.

Crossing the room with three quick strides, he was immediately at Jazz's side and was carefully pulling the covers back, Jazz scrabbling to tug them back into place. Prowl would find out that he'd skipped Ratchet and make him go!

"Jazz, let me see." Prowl snapped, grabbing onto Jazz's wrists as he made to tuck the covers in underneath him, where Prowl couldn't reach. He was still annoyed at Jazz for eating his bagel (and he didn't think he'd forgive that act of treason too soon) and he'd just spent the entire day working on dire reports. He was not in the mood for Jazz's antics.

"It's nothin' – Ah just pulled somethin'. Promise." Jazz quickly spluttered in reply, silently pleading that Ratchet hadn't asked Prowl about him.

"Ratchet told me that you skipped seeing him after your mission." Prowl replied with a disapproving frown. Fuck, Ratchet _had_. There was no escaping it now.

"Ah didn't wanna waste his time, Smokey needed it more."

"You know the rules, Jazz."

"Ah'm fine!"

"I'll be the judge of that."

Before Jazz could react, Prowl quickly ripped away the sheets and blanket, taking care to not hurt Jazz in the process. Jazz squeaked and immediately went to go and pull them back over himself, the sudden gust cold air unwelcome.

"Hold _still_."

"Ah'm fine, Ah've got a few bruises but that's it-" Jazz cut himself off as he suddenly gasped, a sharp pain shooting through his side. Yep, definitely cracked, if not broken.

"That does not sound like you are fine." Prowl remarked, ignoring how Jazz was whining as he gently pulled up the bottom of his shirt and revealed a dark blue bruise that was edging on purple. "And it doesn't look like it either. Is this broken?"

"Maybe."

"Jazz…"

"Alright alright! Ah'll go!" Jazz replied, clearly exasperated as he threw his arms up and rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

"_Now_."

Jazz pouted and nodded, moving to stand as Prowl shifted out of the way. Gritting his teeth so he didn't give any indication as to how much it hurt, he started to walk towards the front door when he heard Prowl fall into step beside him. He gave him a questioning glance.

"You shouldn't be driving with a broken rib."

The drive back to the base was relatively quiet, what with Jazz not in the mood to blast his music to window-shaking levels nor to sing along to it. Prowl was perfectly fine with this.

And to think that all of this could have been avoided if it weren't for that one perfect bagel.

* * *

**Happy new year and happy holidays, guys!**

**Writing human AU is really fun, funner than I expected actually.**

**kkcliffy - I have to agree. I'd have preferred that nobody died D: I'm still reeling over Wheeljack.**

**tooshytode-anon - Oh man don't be shy I promise I don't bite~ And your wish is my command~**

**Please please pleeaaassseeee tell me what you thought~!**

**~Llama**


	2. Chapter 2

**People asked for more, and funnily enough I wanted to write more.**

**I decided to put it into its own little thing so people wouldn't get disappointed if they don't like human AU's.**

* * *

"Would ya just sit _still_?!"

"This is ridiculous! I am _not_ letting you curl my hair!"

Jazz immediately stilled, hands still on the curler that he was currently starting to clamp shut on the lock of hair that was trapped inside. "Ah'm already half way done." He stated dryly, rolling his eyes as he continued. Prowl hissed as the hot rubber smacked his scalp, not expecting the heat.

"Couldn't you be a little gentler at least?"

"Nope." He chirped, another curler smacking down into place. Prowl gritted his teeth but decided to let the conversation drop.

Twenty minutes and one thoroughly burned scalp later, Jazz leaned back and nodded his head, clearly satisfied with his work. Prowls head was covered in rubber curlers, not a single strand of hair loose. Every time Prowl blinked or simply opened his mouth, it felt as if he was being scalped and he had to quickly stop the action. How anyone ever did this was beyond him, especially on a daily basis!

"I am suddenly finding myself respecting my mother much more than I previously did." Prowl weakly managed, eyes watering. Jazz laughed as he stood up, unplugging the case the curlers were being heated in and leaving it on the side to cool.

"They've just gotta say in for about half an hour-"

"Half an hour?!"

"-and then we can take them out."

Prowl weakly settled himself back down onto his chair, barely restraining the urge to cry. This was almost as bad as Chinese water torture! How could anyone do this?!

* * *

Half an hour later, Prowl found himself sitting on a chair in the kitchen, Jazz perched on the table, with the rubber curlers being taken out of his hair. The rubber seemed reluctant to let go, tearing away chunks of his hair. On one side of Jazz were the rubber curlers that had been removed. On the other was a steadily growing pile of Prowls hair.

"Couldn't you be a little gentler? My mother will have a fit if my head looks anything like the carpet once did." Prowl growled out through gritted teeth, acutely aware of just what his mother thought of the carpet that used to cover the floor to their living room. She'd immediately attempted to start tearing it up there and then. The grotty, moth eaten disgrace was quickly replaced with a brand new carpet.

But Prowls hair was not quite so easy to replace. The woman had an eye for wigs. She had a _gift_.

"Shush, you. You're not loosin' that much."

"That pile isn't getting any smaller."

"And there's just one more curler left." Jazz replied, popping off the rubber object and setting it aside, ruffling Prowls hair after. The curls were tight and springy, making him look almost exactly like a Bichon Frize.

Although, given his blonde hair, maybe a Labradoodle?

"I am never letting you near my hair ever again." Prowl grumbled, standing up and quickly walking into the bathroom to take a look at what Jazz had unleashed upon his head. "What have you done?!"

"Ah think ya look like one of those statues ya get in museums-"

"There's a reason nobody looks like that anymore! It's _revolting_!"

"Ah thought it looked pretty good…" Jazz awkwardly replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Truthfully, he did. He would have done it to his own hair and gone to work the next day with it if he could. Dreadlocks kind of stopped that idea in its tracks – they did _not_ curl. He had tried. And it failed. Massively.

He'd still have to thank Chromia for lending them to him, however. Maybe he'd have to find something else?

Prowl was still frowning at his reflection in the mirror, desperately trying to make the curls drop so he didn't look so ridiculous. It was not to be, and they happily bounced back into place. He'd be rocking the ancient greek style for now.

Silently accepting his fate, he sighed and allowed his shoulders to slump. He was so utterly done. One hundred percent finished.

Jazz quickly whipped his phone out of his pocket and slung an arm around Prowls shoulder before loudly shouting "SELFIE!" and taking a picture of the two. He was proud of his handiwork!

Clearly, as was definitely shown in the picture, Prowl was far from impressed and looked downright murderous.

"Delete it. Now." Prowl snapped, extending his hand to snatch the phone away if need be. Jazz shook his head, grinning wildly as he tapped away on its screen, sending the picture to Blaster, and after a moments consideration Chromia. Might as well let her see what her curlers had been up to.

"Don't you dare!"

"Too late." Jazz sung, showing the 'message sent' screen to him as he pranced away giddily.

Prowl looked horrified, jaw wide open as he gaped at Jazz. He _didn't_.

"I am going to sell your speakers."

"Ya wouldn't."

"Try me."

* * *

As it turned out, Prowl simply didn't have the heart to sell Jazz's speakers, so instead he simply hid them in the closet in his room, covering them with a coat, and acted as if he had. When Jazz returned from buying some more bread and milk – Prowl had refused to step outside their apartment – Prowl was sat at the kitchen table with a thick wad of cash in his hands and was flicking through it.

Jazz nearly dropped the milk in his mad dash to his bedroom, and there was a shout of anguish and the distinct sound of someone falling to their knees.

A few minutes later, Jazz sprinted back into the kitchen, the milk and bread mysteriously missing, and skidded to a halt before he smacked into the dishwasher.

"Ya _sold_ meh speakers?!"

"What on earth makes you think I have?"

"They're gone an' ya holdin' a bundle of cash!"

"Doesn't mean I sold them. This." Prowl placed the cash onto the table, "Is our household savings."

"Where are meh speakers?"

"I have hidden them."

"Give em back!"

"I'll give them back when I feel you have earned them."

"Prooowwwlleer!" Jazz whined, giving him puppy eyes. Fortunately, Prowl was prepared for them and was unaffected as always. He simply picked up the money, put it all back into the box it came from and stowed it away in its hiding place.

"Impress me."

Jazz slouched, grumbling as he wiped away the moisture that had gathered in his eyes when he thought he'd lost his precious speakers, before going to collect the milk and bread and store them in the kitchen. He wouldn't be seeing his speakers any time soon.

* * *

**I just had to curl my sisters' hair and ooooh god I should not be trusted with curlers. They started ****_smoking_****.**

**Are they even ****_meant_**** to do that?!**

**I also never ever thought I'd use the word 'selfie' in a fic. ****_Ever_****.**

**Anyway, there isn't any specific timeline for this.**

**~Llama**


	3. Chapter 3

**The bunny is strong in this one.**

* * *

It was that dreadful time of year again when one was expected to visit their parents.

The sky was blue, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Jazz couldn't remember why he ever thought that this would be a good idea.

Driving down to the south was easy. Yes, the drive was laborious and long, involving multiple motels and many strange looks from their managers, however it was almost nothing compared to Jazz's parents. Every year they insisted that they stay for the week, even though they always escaped after the second day, and it usually involved suspicious food and being slobbered on by the small army of dogs that milled around the country house.

Right now, it was early morning and Jazz was still knocked out in his bed, tangled up in the sheets as he dribbled into his pillow. Prowl was wide-awake and walking through the small orchard that he had found, basket in hand as he picked the oranges from the trees.

When Jazz's mother had walked into the kitchen to find Prowl getting himself a glass of water, she had immediately shoved a basket into his hand and asked that he tended to the orchard and picked all of the oranges. Not one to deny his host, Prowl immediately went out to do so. He was quickly joined by a pug who had one eye locked onto him at all times, the other looking directly ahead. It was somewhat unnerving.

As he reached up to pick an orange on a higher branch, a slightly larger dog that looked like some kind of spaniel decided to barrel full-force into the backs of his legs, sending him flying.

And with Prowl, the oranges went soaring too.

The moment Prowl was down, the two dogs immediately ran at his face and began licking, slicking up his hair and trying their hardest to make sure every inch of his face was thoroughly licked before they lost interest and began preying on the oranges instead. Prowl had learned long ago that it was pointless to try and push them away as they nibbled on his hand and began to lick that instead.

"No!" Prowl yelped, quickly scrabbling up to save the oranges before the dogs devoured them. He managed to save all but one, which the pug was now galloping away with, jaws locked around the mangled fruit. The spaniel was bouncing after him, yapping excitedly.

Stupid animals.

Sighing, Prowl decided that it would be best to return with what he had, and made his way back to the house.

* * *

"Ah told ya that this was a bad idea!"

"Calm down, it's not so bad."

"Yes, it is bad! She's gonna ask why I haven't got a girlfriend yet an' then demand that she has grandchildren!"

"I thought she already did?"

"Exactly!"

Prowl tried to understand what Jazz had just meant, but decided that it was most likely only to end in pain and failure and decided to ignore it. Instead he grabbed onto Jazz's elbow and proceeded to drag him down the hall, cotton socks slipping and sliding along the polished wooden floor. "Your parents are waiting for us."

Much to Jazz's annoyance, both of his parents spent most of the evening harping him about settling down with someone and telling him about his job. The _truth_ about his job. They'd heard about his broken rib and were badgering him to cough up and admit that it wasn't from him braking too hard while driving. Prowl simply sat in the armchair closest to the blazing fire that had been lit as soon as the sun had started to set, mug of coffee in hand as he barely hid his smirk. Oh, the joys of parents.

The very next morning, they said their goodbyes and quickly sped away before they could say anything else. This was mostly because Jazz knew he couldn't spend another minute with his parents harassing him without snapping and punching one of them, and partly because a pug was eyeing Prowls leg in a way that suggested that their mind was not in savory places, and Prowl was not too eager to go through with _that_ experience again. The last time that had happened, Jazz had filmed it while crying with laughter.

Thankfully, common sense had stopped him from uploading it onto youtube.

"Your parents seemed to be happy to see us." Prowl remarked as they stopped at a red light. The hand that wasn't on the steering wheel was adjusting the air conditioning.

"They're _always_ happy ta see meh." Jazz retorted, slumping back into his seat.

"You should visit them more often."

"They should be visitin' _meh_ more often. The drives a killer."

"And you'd subject your parents to that?"

"They can visit meh sister or brother on their way."

Prowl simply rolled his eyes as they started moving again, slowly navigating through the town before they reached the motorway again.

* * *

**I never expected to get reviews that quickly *sweats*. I don't really know what direction this will go in as it's kinda just a load of random things bundled together, so if you wanna see anything or have any suggestions for it I'm all ears. High five to MoonWallker! :D**

**~Llama**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for all of the follows, favourites and reviews :D Making my day, ya'll are.**

* * *

Prowl quickly shut the door behind him, plastic bag full of shopping in one hand and the other drawn up close, pressing a bundle of blankets into his chest. Not stopping to remove his shoes, Prowl quickly rushed into the kitchen to dump the shopping and carefully set the blanket down on the table, taking care to not jolt what was wrapped up inside.

Curious as ever, Jazz poked his head outside his door to see what was happening. Upon seeing the wet footprints that lead from the front door to the kitchen, he decided to follow them and investigate. Prowl _always_ took off his shoes – _especially_ when it was this weather.

"What's happenin'?" Jazz asked, being careful to not step on the water on the floor. A frozen looking Prowl turned around, snow falling from his hat and what could be seen of his hair.

"I found a cat."

Jazz looked over his shoulder, and sure enough on the table snuggled up in a blanket was a small cat. From what Jazz could see of it, it was black and white with the biggest blue eyes he'd ever seen.

Instant.

Adoration.

"Who's cat it is?" Jazz asked, gently scratching behind its ear. The cat purred, eyes closing and leaning into his touch.

"I don't know. He didn't have a collar."

"What're we gonna do?"

"We'll have to take it to the vets tomorrow. The snow's too thick now." Prowl gestured down to his legs. His trousers were clinging to him, the fabric saturated with water, and his boots completely caked in snow. "We could make a phone call to Sideswipe, I'm sure he wouldn't mind advertising it in his window."

Jazz nodded, knowing that the shopkeeper would. "Go get changed, ah'll get somethin' for it ta eat."

Now, what was it he could feed it? Fish? Did they even have any that wouldn't be too salty?

As it turned out, they had a can of tuna in spring water in the pantry, and Jazz was quick to open it up and present a small amount of it to the cat currently curled up on their table to see if they would be interested.

The moment his hand was close enough for the cat to smell the tuna, they perked up and slowly began to get up and padded over to Jazz, sniffing his hand before licking the tuna up and swallowing it whole.

Bit by bit, Jazz fed the cat the entire can of tuna, after which the cat allowed itself to be picked up and taken into the warm living room, where they cuddled up on Jazz's lap.

He wanted to keep it.

"Prroowwwlllll?"

"Yes?" Prowl sighed as he walked in, wet clothes now hung up to dry in the airing cupboard. He knew that voice.

"Can we keep it?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"The outward appearance of the please will not sway me."

Jazz pouted, returning to scratching the cat behind its ear. The moment Prowl sat down next to Jazz, the cat immediately jumped away from Jazz and snuggled up onto Prowls lap, looking up at him with his big eyes that appeared to sparkle.

"He's givin' ya the look, Prowler. He wants ta stay too."

"He's not. We don't have the resources to look after a _fish_, let alone a cat."

Jazz grimaced as he remembered the fate of their pet fish. Rest in piece, goldie. Their jobs and work commitments meant that pets were a no-go. It was only because of the snowstorm that they weren't at the base – they couldn't even get there.

A cat was out of the question.

A cat was most definitely out of the question when it started batted Prowl on the chin, claws barely retracted, leaving red marks on his face.

"What the-"

Jazz was quick to burst into laughter at Prowls predicament, however they quickly morphed into sounds of terror as Prowl swiftly removed the cat from his face and dumped it onto Jazz.

"We're getting rid of it tomorrow." His tone left no room for argument, and Jazz solemnly accepted it. Prowl was not standing for having the feline tear up his face.

* * *

**Man I hate cats.**

**Aaaanyway, any requests/suggestions are graciously accepted and I'll try my very best to do them UvU If you have any you want the robutts to do, feel free to send them over too.**

**~Llama**


	5. Chapter 5

**Follows on from the previous chapter**

**Thanks to Ghost-writer-88 for the suggestion :D**

* * *

Despite what Prowl said, they didn't take the cat to the vet the next day. Sideswipe had put up a notice in his shop and had some of his friends in other neighborhoods put up a notice for the wayward cat, however no one had come forwards.

The pair were leaning more and more towards the idea that the cat was a stray. So, in their apartment it stayed.

Despite the first night where the cat had decided to use Prowls chin as a scratching post, the two had become almost inseparable. Wherever Prowl was, the cat was not too far behind. When they could start working again, the cat always managed to wiggle itself into the car in spite of their best efforts, and so to the base it came. The cat was an instant hit and loved by the masses.

It was not loved, however, by Red Alert. He was completely convinced that it was a spy, spouting about how the C.I.A created a 'spy cat' and that it could easily be repeated. Jazz was one of the first to point out that said cat was hit by a taxi.

When the snow had completely gone, Jazz took the cat to the vets while Prowl was still working to see if it had a microchip. Alas, it was to no avail as no microchip was found.

And so this was how Prowl and Jazz ended up adopting a cat.

* * *

"Have you got the papers?" Prowl asked nervously as he unlocked the car, locks clicking out of place.

"Yep!" Jazz chirped as he circled the car and got into the other side, envelope holding the important documents in his hand. Prowl slid in next to him, nervously taking hold of the steering wheel.

Following the various visits to their parents and the phone calls after, one topic continuously came up.

Grandchildren.

While both had siblings, they were the only ones to not have any kids to call their own. Ultimately they decided to kill two birds with one stone – stop their parents complaining and ease the strain on the orphanages that dotted the country by adopting.

And that was how they found themselves walking in to the reception for what they hoped was the final time.

Their house had been inspected, their backgrounds checked, inspectors introduced to the cat and had completed questionnaire after questionnaire. After passing everything, they had finally been allowed to pick up someone called Bluestreak.

They had obviously met Bluestreak before, and they had spent the night at their apartment numerous times so he could get used to it. Bluestreak promptly decided that he liked the pair, which was a huge jump from his previous encounters with potential parents.

"It'll be fine." Jazz said comfortingly, placing his hand over the hand Prowl had on the gear stick and rubbing it with his thumb. "It's too late for them to let it fall through now. Besides, if it does, we can try somewhere else."

Prowl allowed himself a small smile at the other mans words, turning the key in the ignition. "If they do, I'll give them hell."

"Ah know ya will Prowler, Ah'll be right behind ya."

The drive down was relatively peaceful. Every so often Jazz would start giggling out of nowhere, clutching the documents tightly to his chest. Prowl didn't need to be psychic to know that he was excited.

In all honestly, Prowl was too. He was just better at hiding it.

"Ah wonder what he wants for dinner?"

"You'll have to ask him."

"Ah hope we have what he wants."

"We probably don't, I haven't gone shopping this week yet. I thought it would be a good idea to go with Bluestreak so he knows where it is."

"That'd probably be a good idea."

* * *

Bluestreak was patiently waiting for them, suitcase holding everything he owned beside him as he watched TV with some of the other children. The moment he saw Jazz he immediately leapt to his feet and ran over, tackling the older man in a hug.

"Jazzy!" Bluestreak squeaked, tightening his arms around Jazz's midsection. Jazz tried his hardest to not be bowled over, returning the hug full force. Seeing as the other man was otherwise occupied, Prowl handled the paper work.

Ten minutes later, the trio were in the car, Bluestreak happily nattering away in the back.

* * *

"Ah remember when we christened this place." Jazz murmured as he played with Prowls fingers from his position snuggled up to his side. Prowl harshly pinched him, glaring at him before looking pointedly at Bluestreak. Bluestreak was completely out of it, curled up on the sofa at Jazz's feet with the blanket and the cat sitting on top of him.

"He's asleep." Jazz deadpanned, nudging him with his foot for emphasis. All it prompted was Bluestreak mumbling in his sleep and turning away.

Prowl simply rolled his eyes and allowed Jazz to tuck his head under his chin. "Still. At least wait until he's out of the room." He quietly replied, playfully batting at the fingers playing with his own. "And I'd be quite surprised if you didn't. And offended."

Jazz laughed, turning to muffle it in Prowls neck. "Oh Prowler, Ah'm sure Ah wont be forgettin' any time soon."

"Forgetting what?" Bluestreak sleepily mumbled, shifting to sit upright. The cat, which they had ultimately decided to call 'socks' due to its white paws, miraculously stayed on Bluestreak's lap without much complaint. Both adults immediately froze, Prowls face slowly heating up as Jazz tried his hardest to not crack and start laughing.

"Don't ya worry yaself, Blue. Tired?" Jazz eventually managed, face taking a rosy hue from embarrassment. Prowl was as red as a tomato, however in the dim lighting of the room it wasn't very obvious.

"Yeah, is it alright if I went to bed now?" Bluestreak meekly asked, scratching Socks behind their ear. Jazz nodded, shuffling away from Prowl to see Bluestreak to his room. A few minutes later, when Prowls face was considerably less red, he joined them and said goodnight to Bluestreak before going to bed himself, Jazz following him not long after.

* * *

**I hope this helped a little, MoonWallker and GhostyxChoco :D I'll try to smidgen in more slashy stuff.**

**I have no idea how the adoption process works so I kinda just made it up and hoped I at least got something right.**

**~Llama**


	6. Chapter 6

**Tooshytode-anon brought something up and prompted me to get it over and done with UvU**

**I realize that this may be a bit of a touchy subject and if I haven't handled something correctly then please please please for the love of all things holy tell me and guide me so I can correct it or just remove it completely!**

**Aaaanyway, without further ado, the next chapter~**

**This one goes before everything else that has currently happened – before they got an apartment together.**

**This chapter isn't exactly friendly, so if you're unsure as to whether or not you should be reading after the first section then please don't. I don't wanna hurt anyone ;A;**

* * *

They'd managed to keep it secret for months – almost an entire _year_. Having to pretend in front of everyone that they felt nothing for the other – that they were just friends – got harder and harder with every passing moment.

One slip up, just one, and all of this would be for nothing.

The 'double dates' that consisted of them and two of their female friends, all four pretending until they escaped prying eyes. Stolen moments in the dark. Discrete touches that lingered far longer than necessary. Rushed escapades together and multiple close shaves.

It was by far more difficult than either of them had imagined.

It was pure, unfortunate chance that they had been discovered. There was no way they could wriggle out of this one, what with the extremely compromising position they were in. Jazz's hands buried deep in Prowl's hair, legs hooked over his hips. Prowl's hands under his shirt, pulling it up and exposing his stomach.

Prowl's father was _furious_.

Fury didn't even begin to cover what Jazz felt when he saw Prowl the next day, battered and broken. Blue bruises marring his body, a purple bruise swallowing his eye and a split lip hap-hazardly kept together with small bits of plaster. In order to get him to calm enough to form a coherent sentence, Prowl agreed to going over to his after school and allowing his mother to clean up his injuries.

* * *

As Prowl ended up sitting at their kitchen table, mug full of hot ribena, Jazz's mother gave him a hard look.

"Ya'll have ta learn how ta stand up fer ya'self. Ya're excuse of a pa can't do this." She said, tucking what she could of her hair behind her ear. It was incredibly curly and appeared to defy gravity. "If he don't, Ah'm callin' th' authorities."

"I've tried. It just makes him worse." Prowl replied, testing the temperature of the liquid in his mug before taking a measured sip and placing it back onto the table. The pair had told Jazz's parents that Prowls father had gone on a drunken rage again – it wasn't as if it was a rare occurrence, and actually happened quite often – and that Prowl had gotten in the way as he made a beeline for his mother. Just like the other times.

Only this time, it was much, much worse.

Thankfully, his parents bought it, as they happily cleaned up his lip and the cut no one knew existed on his upper arm along with his bruises, rubbing witch hazel into them.

After carefully watching the time, Prowl arrived just as his father left for the pub. 5:30pm exactly. Prowl ducked behind some bushes to stay out of sight, silently watching his father stagger down the road before creeping towards his house and slipping inside.

His mother was waiting for him, sitting on the stairs. When she saw his shocked expression, she smiled at him.

"I knew you'd time your arrival back with when he left. You're a clever, clever boy Prowl and I'm proud of you."

Prowl didn't know how to reply, but the shocked expression left his face. He now had a sense of trepidation – was he being kicked out?

"Go see Alessia. She's been asking for you."

Prowl stiffly nodded and shuffled past her on the stairs, taking two at a time once he had passed her. He could hear his sister before he saw her, opening the door to see the young child clinging to her pillow and stifling her sobs in it. When she saw Prowl, it was immediately abandoned and she ran towards him, ignoring the grunt of pain that escaped him when she held on too tightly.

"I'm scared, Prowl. I've never seen daddy so angry." She hiccupped, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. "He smashed so many of his bottles."

"Did he hurt you?" Prowl asked, smoothing down her hair as he accepted the fact he would have to change shirt. The one he was currently wearing was near enough _ruined _with tears and snot.

"A little, but he got mummy first."

Prowl felt his hands clench into fists and his jaw clench, teeth grinding together. His father couldn't keep doing this. He _couldn't_.

Sighing, Prowl picked up his little sister and let her wrap her small arms around his neck, almost strangling him, as she buried her face into his shoulder, avoiding the angry looking dark purple mark that looped around Prowls throat. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to stop him."

"I don't want you to stop him, he's already given you bruises."

That was true, Prowl thought as he absently looked at his arm. Poking out the bottom of his shirt, which he had rolled up to his elbow, was a blue bruise that was slightly swollen. But that still didn't mean that he would let his little sister get hurt. He was meant to _protect_ her, damn it!

"Well, I don't want him to hurt you." Prowl replied, readjusting his hold on her so he could hold her properly as he began to walk out of her room. "Do you want to see what cartoons are on TV?"

His little sister gave an enthusiastic nod as the thought of watching cartoons, making sure she held onto her big brother as he walked down the stairs.

As he sat on the sofa with her, the young child sitting on his legs and leaning back against his chest, Prowl kept an eye on the time to ensure that they were both back upstairs before their drunken father came back.

* * *

The next day was thankfully a weekend, and Prowl was quick to get his sister out of the house by taking her to the park.

As it was the middle of the summer, no one paid any attention to the teenager and his little sister, happily holding his hand and skipping along beside him. She was excited at the prospect of going to the park – she adored the swing sets, especially when Prowl pushed her, and going on the se-saw with her friends although she hated going on them with Prowl – he was so heavy that she couldn't stay seated and was always thrown upwards only to land non-too-heavily back onto the hard, flat surface.

Jazz met them at the park, giving Alessia a strawberry cornetto from the ice-cream truck. While she happily licked away at it, nattering away to one of her school friends that she'd found, Prowl and Jazz found somewhere to sit and wait for her to remember the swing sets existed.

"Do your parents know?" Prowl asked, leaning back heavily against the bench. He wasn't letting himself show it, but jesus christ it hurt to move.

"Prowler, if they did, Ah wouldn't be here." Jazz replied, nibbling the cone on his _99_. "You know what they're like. Praise Jesus, lord almighty."

Prowl simply hummed, squeezing the bottom of his calippo and taking a bite of the top. "You never know Jazz, they might be accepting of it. Jesus was very accepting."

"It's more my brother I'm worried about."

"I didn't think he was religious?"

"He's not. He's just an ass."

Prowl barely restrained his laugh as Jazz gave him an irritated look, clearly displeased that Prowl found this amusing. "S'not funny. He already heavily suspects it."

"It's all gone to shit anyway, what's to lose?"

Jazz groaned and slumped backwards, narrowly avoiding shoving his ice-cream onto his nose. "Everythin'. They probably wont let me see ya again, ya do realize."

"Jazz, we know where the other lives. It hasn't stopped us before."

"They know tha'."

"True."

The pair silently watched Alessia run around with some of the other children, ducking and weaving amongst the playground equipment. There was a small bruise on her upper arm, although they weren't anywhere near as bad as Prowls' were.

* * *

"Don't touch him! It's just a phase! He'll grow out of it – you will, wont you Prowl? And then he'll be fine! He'll be normal! Please don't touch him-!"

Prowl could barely keep his expression neutral as his mother begged and pleaded with his father who was glaring daggers at him from across the room. Prowl highly doubted that this was 'just a phase' and found her choice of wording quite insulting, truth be told. But then there was also keeping quiet so nobody got hurt.

It was easy to see which he chose.

"I'm going to my room now." Prowl announced as he made to stand, pushing back his chair. "I'll be going to sleep."

His father snarled, roughly pushing Prowl's mother aside and striding towards him, roughly grabbing him by the throat and shoving him backwards so he was pressed against the wall. The bruises that were already there began protesting, Prowl madly scrabbling at the hand clasped around his neck, trying his hardest to breathe.

"Oh _jesus christ get off him_!" Prowl faintly heard his mother shriek, but all he could hear was his fathers furious, heavy breathing and the sound of blood rushing around his head.

And then the sound of Alessia crying.

His fathers hand suddenly tore away and Prowl weakly sank to the floor, coughing and choking as he fought to get his breath back. Alessia was immediately at his side, attempting to put herself between her brother and her father, sobbing. She couldn't form any words, just high-pitched squeaks and broken noises.

"Prowl, could you take Alessia upstairs? Please?" Their mother asked, eyes locked with their fathers. She looked ready to _murder_. Prowl nodded, unable to form any words just yet, and gently encouraged Alessia to turn and face him so he could pick her up and take her to his room.

As they passed the bathroom, Prowl decided that he should probably get Alessia some tissues and take a look at his neck. He could feel it _pulsating_.

"Daddy hurt you again" She sobbed, more tears spilling out of her eyes. Prowl couldn't think of a reply, and simply helped her wipe them away with the toilet paper. There were tissues, but they were downstairs in the kitchen where his parents were, and there was no way he was going down there again.

"Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?" He asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. She nodded, hand coming up to rub at her eyes. Alessia loved sleeping in his bed. Prowl wasn't quite sure why, but she did. Apparently it was more comfortable.

* * *

Jazz tried not to squirm under the scrutiny his parents were placing him under.

His sister was sat off to the side, eyes glued to her phone, fingers flying a mile a minute as they tapped out messages to her friends. Whatever was going on, she wasn't paying any attention. His older brother, however, was sat on the floor, smug look on his face.

Jazz was right, and his older brother had caught on and sussed him out, although Jazz had a sneaky feeling that his older sister had been in on the loop before Jazz himself even knew. That woman had the _sight_. Jazz didn't know anyone else who could correctly predict the winners of the game shows on TV before it had even gotten started.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Jazz's mother softly began, leaning forwards to delicately tuck his hair behind his ear so it was away from his face. "You know you can tell us anything."

Jazz nervously looked around – anywhere but directly at any of his family, but his fathers hand on his chin brought that action to a close and he eventually persuaded himself to look both his parents in the eye.

"Ah didn't think that ya'd agree wit' it." He meekly replied, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Jazz flinched when he heard his brother bark out a laugh. "Why would they? You're a fag, Jazz – the black sheep. Quit trying to be such a special snowflake all the ti-" His brothers tirade was cut short as his sisters phone smacked into his face with a resounding 'crack', the back flying off.

"You BITCH!" He shouted, standing and advancing towards his sister, who was glaring at him hotly.

"Oh don't you even start wit' me sunshine." She growled, stomping forwards. "That's ya lil' brother! How could ya talk to him like tha'?!"

"Because he's _revoltin'_. That isn't natural."

"Then it's a good thin' Ah think ya revoltin' too!" Jazz chirped, sensing a golden opportunity. "Ya can unclench now."

"Jack, shut up." Jazz's father suddenly snapped, glaring at him. He then looked at Jazz's sister who appeared to be very pleased with Jazz's come back – almost proud, in fact. "Jess, please stop throwing your phone at people."

Jess nodded, happily trotting over to her phone and snapping the back into place. Jack snarled and stomped out of the room, the front door slamming shut just moments later. Jazz winced, sensing that he'd just set off a long-time argument.

"Now, Jazz. Remember what we always told you. We cannot judge you." His father said, taking one of his hands with both of his own, his mother mirroring him. "That is Gods duty. God has a plan for all of us, and this is merely part of yours."

"Our is a religion of love, Jazzy, not hate. We'll always be here for ya." Jazz's mother finished, planting a wet sloppy kiss on his forehead. "Besides, we did have our suspicions. You may well have been born with a rainbow flag."

Jazz snorted with laughter, hugging his parents tightly to his chest.

"Prowl's father wasn't drunk, was he?"

Jazz flinched and shook his head, slowly releasing his parents. "Ah think ya can guess what happened."

"That man is gonna get what's comin' for him."

* * *

**Sudden change from the happy-go-lucky fluff, hmm?**

**I'm not straight myself so some of these things I can relate to -_- the 'oh it's just a phase!' and 'special snowflake' things just annoy me so badly. Like, no. Don't do that. That's not cool.**

**~Llama**


	7. Chapter 7

**As requested by Lair of the Twisted Muses!**

* * *

It was early afternoon and Bluestreak didn't have any more classes to attend.

Score.

His day was going relatively well until he unlocked the door to the apartment and opened it, only to have a black and white streak shoot past his feet and down the hall. It only took a moment for Bluestreak to register what had happened before…

"SOCKS! NOOOOOO!"

Quickly slamming the door, he sprinted after the wayward cat.

Prowl and Jazz were going to kill him!

He didn't see the damn thing _anywhere_. He had half a mind to return to the apartment and wait for Socks – it wasn't as if this hadn't happened before, and Socks always returned, but that was usually after a couple of hours. Prowl and Jazz would be _returning_ in a couple of hours! He didn't have time to sit about and wait!

So after the cat he went, cupping his hands around his mouth and calling the cat's name.

* * *

He had looked _everywhere_. The apartment complex in which he lived had no automatic doors, and at this time of day nobody would be entering or exiting. They'd either be at work, school or lazing around at home. Eventually, he slowly sunk down the door to his apartment and curled up into a ball, arms over his knees and forehead rested on them.

He'd messed up big time.

Biting back the tears that were threatening to escape, Bluestreak was about to get his phone out and text his adoptive parents to tell them what had happened when he heard a meow and looked up to see Socks.

The cat padded up to him and began nuzzling his arm, purring, before wriggling under his arm so they could sprawl out on his lap. Once comfortable, the purring resumed and Socks bumped his head against Bluestreaks leg in a silent demand. 'Give me skritches!'

Bluestreak was happy to oblige, and only when he heard the elevator ping at his floor did he quickly scramble to his feet, Socks firmly in his arms, and dash into his apartment.

* * *

**Man this is so short I'm really sorry.**

**As always, if there's something you wanna see just ask~**

**~Llama**


	8. Chapter 8

**As requested by Ghost-writer-88!**

**Man I have no idea how the grade system works I hope I got it right ;A;**

* * *

The third time Socks had made a dash for it out of the front door, Bluestreak decided that it was high time they got the runaway animal a collar.

And so, down to the store he went.

Instead of going to the convenience store, he instead went to Sideswipes store. There was no reason for this – he just had a wider selection. Yeah, that was it. That was totally it.

Not.

Bluestreak was loath to admit it, but ever since he first saw Sideswipe flash that cheeky grin of his at Prowl when the two were introduced he was _smitten_.

The store was open and the bell ringed as he pushed open the door, Sideswipe immediately looking up and grinning at him as he came in.

"Hey lil' Blue, what'cha looking for?"

"I-I need a collar for my cat." Bluestreak was amazed he even managed to form the sentence, what with his clammy hands and the quickening of his pulse.

"Yeah, Jazz told me about Socks. Little bugger, isn't he?" Sideswipe said as he walked around the counter and towards the pets section, Bluestreak trailing behind him. "We've got red collars, black collars, white collars – although I think the black wouldn't be too good an idea, blend in too much wouldn't it? – and we've got some blue collars. Sunny should be making some more next week when the next shipment of materials comes in."

Bluestreak nodded, not really taking in what he was saying. If he didn't control himself he would literally be swooning over the man and he couldn't have that. He was a junior! Somehow, he didn't think that the storeowner would feel too pleased – not to mention that it would be _awkward_.

"We've also got some tags too." Sidesipe continued, not noticing that Bluestreak wasn't paying much attention. "We've got lots of shapes – Sunny likes to experiment – and I can engrave it for you free of charge."

Wait, who was Sunny?

"Who's Sunny?" Bluestreak asked, trying his hardest to engage in the conversation.

"My twin brother. He's not exactly social, but he makes some of the stuff that we sell. A little rough on the outside but he's like a marshmallow – gooey on the inside"

Bluestreak didn't even want to know why he'd just referred to his twin as a marshmallow, however knowing that there were _two_ Sideswipes was too much for his little heart to handle and his imagination was starting to run away with him. No, bad imagination!

In the end, Bluestreak chose a red collar. Sideswipe insisted that he get a tag in the shape of a sock, so in three days time Bluestreak would have to come back and collect it.

* * *

Three days later found Bluestreak sitting on the kitchen floor, Socks in his lap. The red collar fitted perfectly, and as a little extra Sideswipe had thrown in a bell so they always knew when the creature was sprinting towards their legs to escape when they opened the front door.

Bluestreak absently scratched behind Sock's ear, the cat melting into him and vibrating as they purred.

Well, he'd just made a fool of himself hadn't he?

He'd gone to the store to pick up the nametag for Socks, and the mysterious Sunny was down on the floor, putting stock onto the shelves. While he was expecting Sunny to have the same ginger hair as his brother did, a fiery red that reminded Bluestreak of London buses, they had hair so blonde it looked like woven gold.

And it left Bluestreak quickly stuttering something about leaving the oven on and speeding away with the nametag, sprinting the entire way back to the apartment and almost being hit by a few cars in the process.

He'd _never_ be able to show his face there again.

* * *

**So apparently a freshman is 14? Man, the stories I heard about freshmen made me think that they were older like 16 or something… I didn't get up to that kind of crap when I was 14… Even when I was 16….**

**Aaaanyway, apparently if you're a junior you're 16~**

**~Llama**


	9. Chapter 9

**As requested by MoonWallker!**

**Set after the second chapter, I think?**

* * *

Prowl still hadn't forgiven Jazz for turning him into a curly-haired mess.

Chromia's curlers had been returned to the smirking woman who couldn't resist teasing the poor man, ruffling his hair as she swaggered out, ever-present gun swinging at her hip. It reminded Prowl that he probably shouldn't retaliate if he didn't want a bullet in his face.

Somehow, the picture Jazz took of himself and Prowl had managed to circulate around the base, spouting the new nickname of 'David'. Prowl hated it just as much as he despised '_Prowler'_.

It took weeks of the puppy face for Prowl to forgive Jazz and give back his speakers, bringing the return of the wall-shaking levels of volume Jazz was renowned for. Their neighbours on the floors above and below had a few things to say about it, but given that it didn't happen in the early morning or late at night, nobody could do anything about it.

But Jazz did not forgive Prowl for taking his speakers. No, no he did not. He may have ruined his hair and eaten his bagel (which was delicious, by the way) but nobody took his speakers. _Nobody_.

He hid his smirk well behind his coffee, watching Prowl run around looking for his laptop. Pretending to read his newspaper – which was upside down – he watched Prowl over the top of it, inwardly laughing at his antics.

"Have you checked in the study?"

"Yes – three times. It's not on charge, in the drawer or on the desk."

"Bedroom?"

"Yep."

"Living room?"

There was a pause for a moment as Prowl ran in, and the sound of cushions and pillows being thrown around before a muffled "Not in here!" could be heard.

The reality of it was that the laptop was sitting on top of the kitchen cupboard. Jazz had to enlist the help of Ironhide to get it up there – no way was he tall enough, even standing on a chair – and he'd have to ask him to help get it down when he felt Prowl had suffered enough punishment.

"You're finding this funny, aren't you?" Prowl grumbled as he walked back into the kitchen, face flushed from the exercise he'd been doing. Jazz smirked and nodded, nearly snorting into his coffee. Prowl rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he poured himself some coffee.

Oh yes. Prowl wouldn't be getting his laptop back for a while.

Sweet, sweet revenge.

* * *

**Sorry it's so short, I'm not feeling too good right now :(**

**~Llama**


	10. Chapter 10

**As requested by MoonWallker and Autobot Chromia!**

**& to answer your question – yes! I do! I thrive off them :D**

**Set before they got their own apartment together~**

* * *

Prowl was never eating a takeaway again.

He'd never had a takeaway before. His mother always cooked for him – failing that he'd make it himself. Or he'd just go out and eat.

Fast food? Yep. Restaurants? Yep. Cafés? Yup. Been there, done that. It was just the takeaway left, and it appeared Jazz deemed it appropriate to give him the first samples of it.

To begin with, he was excited. Movie marathon with Jazz with an Indian takeaway, what on earth could go wrong?

As it turned out, that was the wrong thing to say.

Everything started out just fine. They ordered, and waited around downstairs so they were close to the door to answer it when the doorbell rung. When their order arrived, they paid, tipped and excitedly took it upstairs to Prowls room.

The rest of Prowls family was out visiting his grandma. With what had recently transpired with his father, they understood that he had no desire to visit his fathers side of the family, so Prowl stayed at home and had reeled Jazz in with him.

They ate while watching the first Lord of the Rings and fell asleep partway through the second, waking up as the credits began to roll.

Comfortable where they were in their carefully constructed blanket fort, the TV and the lights were turned off and they snuggled back down again.

Two hours later, Prowl woke up with the worst stomach ache he'd ever had and he barely made it to the bathroom before his stomach decided to turn over and decide it didn't want what was inside it anymore and get rid of it in the worst way possible.

Thankfully, the lid was already up as Prowl scrambled over to make it to the toilet in time. Seconds later, woken up by Prowl's mad break for freedom from their fort, Jazz skidded in and knelt down next to him, soothingly rubbing his back as Prowl emptied the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

"I'm never eating takeaway again." Prowl grumbled, leaning back.

"Yeah ya will, we just won't order from there next time." Jazz replied, handing him a tissue to wipe his mouth with. Prowl accepted it, murmuring his thanks before he gave Jazz a look that said 'no, we are most definitely not'.

Oh well, he always caved. Jazz knew that they'd be getting a takeaway again – maybe they'd get a Chinese next time? He hadn't had any in a while.

They stayed in the bathroom, leaning against the bathtub while Jazz absently rubbed Prowls back, trying his best to soothe him before he had to throw up again. His face was paler than usual and he was breaking out in a sweat, stomach occasionally gurgling. Squirming uncomfortably, he attempted to tug his shirt off before Jazz quickly stopped him.

"Ya've gotta keep it on. Ah know ya feel hot but ya gotta keep it on babe."

"Don't call me that." Prowl huffed, pressing his cheek onto the side of the bath. It was cold, and he wasn't about to shove his face onto the tiled floor.

"Would ya rather Ah called ya Prowler?"

"You do anyway."

Jazz giggled, quickly jumping away when Prowl made to swipe at him.

* * *

Half an hour found them back in Prowl's room and in the blanket fort. Jazz had easily fallen asleep again, cuddled snugly up to Prowls side with one arm slung over him, the other underneath his head, however Prowl was not finding it quite so easy. He had a disgusting taste in his mouth, and if he moved he'd feel bad if he woke Jazz up. His stomach still hurt with the occasional ache and he was far too hot.

Maybe if he was careful he could get a glass of water.

Wriggling out from under Jazz, he slowly made his way out of the blanket fort. Jazz whined in his sleep, curling up at the sudden loss of warmth, but remained asleep. Prowl almost crawled back in there and then, but decided against it when he remembered the taste in his mouth.

Taking two steps at a time, he went down the stairs and into the kitchen. Careful to not make too much noise, he got a glass out and filled it with water before quickly downing it and returning upstairs to wriggle back into place in the blanket fort.

The moment he was back in, Jazz cuddled back up to him and leeched all of his warmth. Prowl never understood his apparent heat-seeking abilities, and while they could be rather endearing at times, sometimes it could be annoying. For example, when you were far too hot and felt like something was having a boxing match in your stomach.

"Oh for goodness sake Jazz _stop_ _it_!" Prowl hissed as he found himself pushing Jazz away again. He was still zonked out, snoring every so often. He couldn't hear Prowl, but that didn't stop Prowl from trying to reason with him.

By the time the sun had risen, Prowl had managed to fall into an uneasy sleep, flittering in and out of consciousness. When he woke up again, he noticed that Jazz was gone and he could smell something being cooked.

He wrapped his blanket around him as he tromped downstairs and poked his head into the kitchen. Jazz was standing by the stove, saucepan bubbling away with what looked like chicken noodle soup inside. He hadn't noticed Prowl yet, so Prowl took this opportunity to sneak up behind him and rest his head on his shoulder – he wasn't quite tall enough to put it on top of Jazz's head – while wrapping his arms around him.

Sure enough, Jazz jumped with an unmanly squeak.

"Prowler! Ya should be in bed!"

"Got bored."

"Ah don't care – ya get up there right now."

"Come with me?" Prowl asked, reaching forwards and covering one of Jazz's hands with his own, intertwining their fingers together.

"In a minute, Ah'll bring this up ta ya." Jazz replied, pointing to the soup with the wooden spoon he'd been using to stir it.

"I'll wait." Prowl replied, allowing his hand to fall away and returning it to its previous position. Jazz huffed, shaking his head. Stubborn man.

* * *

**My twin has a really weak stomach, and a lot of my childhood memories consist of her having to take travel sickness tablets so she wouldn't be sick during car journeys. Even if it was only 10 minutes she'd be green by the end of it… So sorry if it's a lil' graphic. I've got experience under my belt.**

**~Llama**


	11. Chapter 11

**As requested by bluebird soaring!**

**Set after the chapter where Prowl first picked up Socks.**

* * *

Open, roaring fires were a thing of the past. No, apartments were kitted out with state of the art internal heating!

If only it actually _worked_.

Given that Prowl had spent most of his day outside in the snow attempting to find the owner of the cat before giving in and taking it back home with him to look again the next day, he was cold. Now, the heating was working when he got back, but not long after he'd gotten changed did it suddenly stop working. He was still on the damp side, what with his hair getting soaked by snowflakes, while Jazz was dry and Socks was cuddling up to him for warmth.

Bundled up with blankets, hands clasped around a hot ribena, Prowl hoped that he didn't catch anything.

* * *

One could hope.

He woke up the next morning finding it difficult to breathe, watering eyes, a runny nose and a pounding headache.

Yup. He'd caught something.

Thankfully he knew he didn't have to go to base today – they were still classed as snowed in – so he simply rolled over and hoped nobody needed him. He was met with a pair of bright blue eyes gazing back at him, and he jumped back when he realized that it was the cat.

No. No no _no_-

Instead of clawing his face again, the cat simply rubbed its face on his and purred, curling up underneath his chin with its head resting on his neck.

Well, this wasn't too bad. Socks was fluffy and cuddly, and his constant purring was rather relaxing.

Prowl found himself starting to drift off again until he heard someone 'awwing' at the door, and blearily opened his eyes to see Jazz standing at the door, one hand clasped over his chest and one covering his mouth.

Was that a phone in his hand?

Yes, it was. Jazz had clearly seen his chance to get a photo of Prowl being cuddly to prove to the base that yes, he _did_ have a soft side, and had come equipped with his camera phone.

Prowl couldn't _wait_ to find out his next nickname. They'd only just stopped calling him _David_.

"No selfies." Prowl attempted to say, although it was difficult to talk and it came out sounding like someone was dragging fingers over a chalkboard.

Jazz pouted but solemnly accepted it. He climbed back into bed opposite Prowl, cuddling up to him in a similar way to the cat, before dosing off again.

* * *

Prowl was in that annoying state of half asleep-half awake when Jazz wriggled out of bed again, flouncing off into the kitchen. Prowl couldn't be bothered to move and he had a feeling Socks would claw him again if he did, so he stayed put.

A few moments later, Jazz came back in again holding two steaming mugs. Prowl couldn't smell what it was, but he had a feeling Jazz expected him to drink it. Shooing Socks away, Prowl sat up and accepted the mug from Jazz before taking a sip.

It took all of his hard-earned self-restraint to not spit it out.

Jazz had put something in it – most likely beechams powder knowing him – and it tasted revolting.

"Ya've gotta drink all of it." Jazz replied, voice a little hoarse. Looked like he'd started to get something too, although Prowl doubted he'd get anything too bad. He never seemed to.

"What did you put in it?"

"Beechams."

Prowl huffed. No wonder it tasted revolting. He brought the '#1 tactician' mug to his mouth again – it was a tasteless mug that his mother had bought for him one Christmas as she thought it was hilarious – and took a measured sip again before gagging and putting it down before he dropped it on himself and the cat.

He hoped he'd be better soon.

* * *

**Man I need to even it out a lil' bit, Prowls the one who seems to be getting ill all of the time…**

**Turns out I also have a cold, third time in the space of 5 months! Yaaay! Time to hide all the beechams so I'm not made to drink it either *shudders***

**~Llama**


	12. Chapter 12

**For Ghostyxchocoooo~! **

**Set directly after chapter 6.**

* * *

Prowl had woken up with Alessia cuddled up to him, one arm thrown over him, the other curled under her head like a pillow. She was still fast asleep, chest slowly rising and falling with every breath. He couldn't find it in him to get up nor put her into her own bed – for one, he felt sore all over. He didn't really feel like moving.

It was only when his mobile vibrated did he move. The red light was flashing indicating that he'd received a message, and when unlocked it he discovered that it was a text message from Jazz.

Nothing could have stopped him from leaping out of bed then, perched on the edge as he quickly opened it. All kinds of things were running through his head, but first and foremost he was terrified that he'd been hurt by someone. His jaw clenched inadvertently at the thought, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold himself back if he had.

Prowl opened up the text, and instantly relaxed when it wasn't saying anything about him being hurt.

'_I need to see you :(_' was all it said, which still had Prowl a little on edge, but he knew that if anyone had hurt him he would say.

"Prowl?" Alessia sleepily asked, moving to sit up and rub at her eyes tiredly. She crawled towards her older brother and settled down next to him.

"I'm just going to go out for a bit, you can carry on sleeping here. Okay?" Prowl replied, standing up and walking towards his wardrobe.

Alessia made a sleepy sound of acknowledgement before flopping back down onto the pillow, tugging the duvet down with her. Within moments she was fast asleep again.

* * *

Sneaking out was incredibly easy. Laughably easy. His father was still asleep, snoring away as he slept off the alcohol he'd had the other day. Creeping down the hall, skipping the creaky step and not rattling the key was childs play to him.

Prowl tried to ignore the way people stared at him as he made his way over to Jazz's house. He knew he looked a mess – black eye, split lip, heavily bruised neck, and what was visible of his arms swollen with dark blue and purple markings. On his right arm was a long slice that was dotted with blood, but Prowl had no idea when or how it had gotten there.

At least no one was rushing out to question him. They used to, but once they learned what his father was like, they stopped. The answer never changed.

Jazz was waiting for him at the door, and the moment he saw Prowl he took off and sprinted towards him, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

Prowl bit down hard on his lip so he wouldn't make a sound. Yes, it hurt, but he'd bear with it for now.

"We should probably go inside." Prowl quietly murmured after a few moments of the two simply holding the other, each reluctant to let go. "We're being stared at."

"Probably a good idea." Came Jazz's muffled reply, and he slowly unraveled himself from Prowl before leading him back to his house. He glanced at his neck and winced in sympathy. How Prowl managed to carry on as if none of his bruises bothered him was beyond Jazz.

As it turned out, it was just Jess at home. Jack hadn't returned the night before and had called to say he was staying at a friend's house, and Jazz's parents had gone out for their weekly shop.

When she heard the front door open, she was immediately up and poking her head out of the living room door. Her jaw dropped when she saw Prowl, and the blood had drained from her face.

"Wha' the _fuck_?!" She exclaimed, stalking forwards and immediately taking the arm with the mystery cut on it. "Ya look like ya got into a fight with a bear, Prowl."

"It feels like it."

Jess looked up and searched Prowls face, mouth pressed into a thin line. "Please tell me he won't do it again."

Jazz glanced up at Prowl, hand sneaking down and sliding into his. Prowl immediately squeezed it comfortingly.

"I can't make any promises."

"Ah hate this." Jess quietly said, extending her arms in a question. Can I hug you?

The answer was a yes as Prowl mirrored the gesture, and Jess quickly hugged him – taking care to not put any pressure onto him so as to not aggravate any bruises – before stepping back and trying to act cheerful. "Would you like anythin' to drink?"

Prowl rejected her offer, and Jess trotted off to make herself a cup of coffee (how she could drink that stuff Prowl would never know) while Jazz dragged him upstairs to his room.

The moment the door had closed behind them, Jazz had turned around and immediately wrapped his arms around Prowls neck again, burying his face into his shoulder. It was slightly awkward with his glasses as they kept on getting in the way, and eventually Jazz huffed and took them off, dropping them onto his bed before returning to his previous position.

All Prowl could think to do was to return the gesture, both arms winding around him, one hand reaching up to run through his hair.

"Ah'm sorry." Jazz said, heavily muffled by the fabric of Prowls shirt.

"What for?"

"Everythin'. None of this would'a happened if Ah'd kept ma big mouth shut."

Prowl tightened his hold, nuzzling Jazz's head. "Don't be sorry for anything."

In the beginning, the two were just friends. Incredibly close friends, at that. Where one was, the other wasn't too far behind. If you invited one you invited the other, simple as.

While Jazz was popular, a magnet for people with a reputation for being a heartthrob, Prowl was not. He was known, yes, but not in a good way. Stoic, smartarse and nerd were the terms most common for him, and many people were surprised that Jazz preferred Prowls company over anyone else's. How on _Earth_ could the fun loving Jazz stand being around Prowl, the infamous wet blanket, for more than five minutes?

The pair were often found with Optimus, someone who was just as popular as Jazz and people seemed to flock to him for advice and guidance. Whenever the three had P.E, everyone would fight to be on their team. Despite Prowl not being very popular, no one could deny that he was excellent at tactics and without a single doubt, whatever team he was on always won.

And that was how the three earned their reputation as being the 'unbeatables'.

It was at one of Optimus' house parties when Jazz realized that his feelings for Prowl extended beyond that of friendship.

The end of the school year was drawing near, and all of their exams were over. Optimus, in all of his glory, decided to host the notorious end of year party. In some ways it was lucky that his parents were literally rolling in cash – the grounds surrounding their house were extensive, and the damage could be limited to the outside.

As per usual, Prowl and Jazz were on top of the invite list and were the first to arrive to help set up. While Prowl had wanted to sneak away as people started arriving like he usually did, Jazz insisted that he had to stay, so he did. This meant that he had ample time to collect a bright red cup that seemed to only exist in movies and fill it to the brim with beer.

He should have thought twice about drinking on an empty stomach – he hadn't eaten all day as his father was in the living room and he didn't want to have to walk past him to get into the kitchen, and after he'd seen one of the jocks acting suspiciously near the buffet table he'd decided against getting something to eat from there. So, given that his stomach was empty and was reminding him of that every so often, there was nothing to dull the effect of the alcohol, and he quickly got drunk.

Jazz was twirling around, dancing around the others on his search for Prowl to find out how the wallflower was doing, only to find him drunk and not quite sure what the girl pressed up close to him was doing. Jazz felt something ugly tug in his heart and he instantly knew that he had to get Prowl away from her. Now.

Tugging him away with a giggle, Jazz skipped away, Prowl in tow, and didn't stop until he was sure they were alone.

Prowl seemed to be much more comfortable now, a relaxed expression on his face. He'd left what remained of his beer behind, but he didn't seem to miss it.

On the other hand, Jazz wasn't sure of what to make of the emotion that was currently wrapping itself around him. He felt jealous of the girl earlier, and he wanted nothing more than to get rid of whatever she'd left behind on Prowl. There was a small smear of lipstick on his shirt collar, and the first thought to enter his mind was 'I have to take his shirt off', which was quickly stopped before it could get any further.

He wasn't supposed to be thinking like this!

Before Jazz could begin to convince Prowl to go back home, Prowl had suddenly thrown his arms around Jazz and pulled him into a hug, chin resting on his shoulder. He sighed heavily, breath tickling at Jazz's neck and sending tingles straight through him before saying 'thank you'.

The pair managed to find Optimus and tell him that they were leaving – Prowl because he was already drunk and Jazz because he wanted to make sure he got home – and when Jazz snuck back in through the kitchen window, he realized that his shirt smelled just like the aftershave Prowl had used and he almost fell into the sink headfirst.

As he clumsily got back to his feet again, he looked up into the unimpressed face of his older sister and he tried not to cringe. She simply rolled her eyes, got herself a glass of water and helped him sneak upstairs, the pair matching their footfalls.

Before Jazz opened the door to his room, Jess leaned down and quietly whispered that he should try and wash that shirt as soon as possible as it stunk of another mans aftershave and that he didn't want their parents getting the wrong idea. He mumbled back that it was Prowls before skittering into his room, completely missing the look on his sisters' face.

The next time Jazz saw Prowl, he looked incredibly embarrassed and flustered and was repeatedly apologizing for what he had done. Apparently he didn't remember much, but he knew he'd gotten drunk and he thought that was a bad thing.

As there was no school for them to go to for a while, Prowl, Jazz and Optimus had all decided that the new movie that had just been released at the cinema was far too interesting to pass up, and had gotten a bus into the town center to go and see it. Unfortunately for Jazz and his already muddled mind, the group in front of them in the queue to the ticket office were rowdy and enjoyed pushing and shoving each other. It was just Jazz's luck that he was bumped into and sent straight into Prowl, who tried his best to catch him as the two stumbled backwards. It was pure luck that nobody saw the kiss that followed, the momentum too much. It was brief and was better described as a brush of their lips but none the less the two immediately went bright red and were incredibly flustered as they tried to help the other stand again. Optimus just watched the two with mild fascination, wondering what had happened to make them so embarrassed.

Unfortunately for Jazz, the movie turned out to be a horror.

None of them had anticipated this.

At all.

Jazz was terrible with horror movies, and as a result had vowed to never watch them. His glasses were quickly steamed up from his tears, and he had quickly latched onto Prowl (he happened to be the closest) and hid his face into his shoulder. Eventually taking pity on him, Prowl allowed Jazz to move close enough for him to put an arm around him and offer some sense of comfort. After all, this was just a movie.

The moment the credits began rolling Jazz was up out of his seat and was quickly making his great escape, Prowl scrambling after him so he wouldn't lose him in the crowds with Optimus close behind.

Jazz continuously found himself making excuses to touch Prowl or to be close to him. Every time he'd get this proud sense of achievement, and even when he promised himself he'd stop he found himself doing it again and again.

Sick, sick, sick. That's how he felt.

Whenever his grandparents visited, he felt fear grip at him and his hands shook slightly every time the forbidden 'h' word was mentioned. He knew what they thought about people in love with the same sex – they thought they should be killed or sent away to be 'corrected'. That it was a self-inflicted disease of the mind and that they should be punished until it goes away.

Jazz didn't try to hide it from himself that he was hook, line and sinker for Prowl. He knew he was. How couldn't he be? Prowl was good looking, had morals and even though many didn't see it, a heart of gold. He loved being around him and felt infinitely calmer. His many dreams that centered around the man didn't help his case either.

It was during one movie night where himself and Prowl where the only ones present that he finally broke and admitted everything. Once one thing came out, the others soon followed and before he knew it everything was tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it – when he realized, why he'd been more touchy feely lately – everything.

And Prowl simply sat and listened.

His lack of action made Jazz feel nervous and he was about to bolt out of the door and hide in a hole until he could drag himself back out again when Prowl stopped him and insisted that he stay.

Did Prowl feel the same way? No, not exactly. But he was very willing to give it a go, and admitted that he had enjoyed the extra attention Jazz was showering him with.

And it was that decision that landed them in the predicament they were currently facing.

"I'm glad you didn't continue to keep yourself in the dark. I'm glad this happened." Prowl assured, pressing a kiss to Jazz's forehead. "Please don't blame yourself."

"Ah'm scared about ya Prowler" Jazz quietly replied, turning to look up at him. Prowls face was the only thing he could see clearly, and he despised what he saw. Fat, swollen and split lip, a black eye and a red bruise creeping along the side of his face. If he glanced down, he saw the bruises that marred his neck and had to bite back the urge to cry at the sight of them. He caused this. If he hadn't said anything to Prowl that day – if he'd just kept it quiet – nothing would have happened and they wouldn't have been in this position.

"Don't worry about me, Jazz. He's done far worse, I can handle it."

"Prowler that doesn't change anythin'! He's hurtin' ya!"

"And I will endure." Prowl allowed himself a small smile and pressed a kiss to Jazz's lips, ignoring the way it stung. "Everything will be just fine. I promise."

* * *

**I completely forgot to upload this one I'm so sorry ;A;**

**But I guess this is also a good time to clear up any confusion about Beechams – it's by a British company (which probably explains why people don't know what it is) and it actually tastes vile. It's like liquorish but much, much more bitter and not quite as sweet, but it's good for colds and such and comes in the form of a white powder.**

**~Llama**


	13. Chapter 13

**As always guys, if there's anything you wanna request then feel free.**

* * *

When Bluestreak returned home from school one day, he found Jazz knocked out on the sofa and a mysterious empty frozen food bag on the kitchen floor.

From what Prowl had told him, he shouldn't be surprised to see Jazz there – apparently he had gone away for a little while and he'd be very tired when he got back – and knowing Jazz's strange disposition of not being able to sleep unless Prowl was there he left him be and didn't wake him.

Socks, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found.

That was until he walked past the airing cupboard on his way to his bedroom, and the door quite literally flung open and the cat was suddenly on his face, wriggling and purring and digging his claws into Bluestreak's head in order to stay there.

Bluestreak released a loud, startled yelp and fell back, narrowly missing hitting the radiator, trying his hardest to get the damn animal to _let go._

He heard a thump coming from the living room, and seconds later Jazz appeared, looking very on edge and slightly crouched, one hand reaching down to the thankfully empty holster on his thigh.

"Jazz, help me!" Bluestreak whined, getting a mouthful of fur. Socks seemed to just get more excitable at this, and began jumping around on Bluestreaks face, poised and ready to pounce. Jazz quickly straightened and ran over to try and prize the cat off of the teens face.

"The heck is wrong wit' ya Socks?" Jazz asked, his voice still groggy from his nap. Socks decided that they did not like being held and immediately began to wriggle around, yowling and twisting. Jazz was scared that he was hurting them, and quickly put them onto the floor and leaped back as Socks darted away.

"Ya didn' happen ta see an empty bag anywhere, did ya Blue?" Jazz asked nervously, eyes trained on the cat.

"I saw a frozen food bag in the kitchen…"

"… Prowler's gonna kill us."

"Why? What was in it?"

"Catnip."

There was a thumping noise, and the two turned around to see that Socks had finally crashed, and was now face-down on the floor.

… Was that dribble Bluestreak saw?

Jazz simply groaned and dragged himself over, picking up the cat who was as limp in his arms as a doll, dribble dribbling down their chin, before moving to dump the dumb creature in its basket in the kitchen.

"Ah have no idea how long Socks'll be like tha' for. Ah just hope Prowler doesn't see."

"He'll notice the catnip though." Bluestreak pointed out, kneeling down to pet Socks.

"If you give Side's puppy eyes he might be willin' ta give ya some. He's got a soft spot for ya, yanno."

Bluestreak tried his hardest to not furiously blush. "Somehow I don't think that will work."

"Aahh, maybe not Sides." Jazz seemed to contemplate something for a moment before grinning again. "But maybe Sunny?"

* * *

As it turned out, the puppy eyes didn't work on Sideswipe, but as Bluestreak dejectedly shuffled out of the store Sunstreaker silently handed him a packet of catnip. Before he could escape, Bluestreak had immediately hugged him, thanking him profusely before leaving and trying to track down the energy drink Jazz had asked for.

Jazz had decided that he wouldn't bother trying to get to sleep – without Prowl it didn't seem to work too well – and they had no coffee. He didn't know why he had started to drink it, although he was suspicious that his older sister Jess had something to do with it. Energy drinks were the next alternative, apparently.

The moment Jazz saw it his eyes lit up and he was making grabby hands, too tired to care how undignified the action was, and cracked it open the moment he could. Bluestreak could smell strawberries, and quickly checked over the other can he had bought. Was it strawberry flavoured?

Bluestreak couldn't find anything on flavour, and guessed that it was just him, absently shrugging as he went to hide the catnip away so Socks couldn't get at it again. The cat was still lounging in its basket, dribble all over the blankets that padded it, tail lazily flicking. Still high as a kite, then.

Both Jazz and Bluestreak jumped when they heard the front door open and close again. Prowl was back. Sharing a nervous glance, they poked their heads out of the kitchen door and prayed to whatever god was looking down at them that Prowl would not notice the state their cat was in.

* * *

**I don't know what it is about energy drinks, but to me they always taste and smell a little like strawberries? I wonder if that's the same for anyone else…**

**Also not entirely sure how catnip works – never had a cat before. My only experiences with cats have been ones with pain as they use me as a climbing frame or a scratching post.**

**~Llama**


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